


Not A Satin Heart

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 05:04:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles struggles to settle into his place in the pack and Derek's world. Derek offers him something to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Satin Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morganoconner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/gifts).



> This is for morganoconner who started off this whole thing with a comment that she wanted to see collaring fic. This is possibly not the fic you wanted but it was fun to write. And after a really helpful comment by Sheepnamedpig, I amended the ending a little.

It’s not that Stiles doesn’t like the sex. He loves the sex. He loves sex. He loves the way Derek wants to lick him all over – especially, you know, there – and suck his cock and split him wide open. The orgasms! Fuck. Stiles was still wrapping his head around how much better orgasms were with two people and they were pretty damn good with him and his trusty hand and Derek’s hand would just…

He loves sex. He’s also coming around to thinking that one of the reasons it is so good is because that word might also apply to the feelings Derek will never name and will only hint at with his eyes and mouth. Stiles has come out of too many afterglows to find Derek stroking his finger across his cheek or smiling up at him or being completely wrapped in his legs and arms and just feeling warm all over. It’s just-

Stiles can’t help the way his hands flutter over his head and tug at his clothing. He can’t help the pacing. He hates it but he can’t help it. They told him he would grow out of this and he’d like it to happen now please. Because it ramps up his feelings until he thinks he might explode every time he’s stuck by his jeep waiting for the others to come running. Then he can help with the fleeing. He’s not good for much else. His jeep and in Derek’s bed and that’s all he is to the pack.

Allison has her bow – she’s possibly as attached to the bow as she is to Scott – when she slides into the seat beside him. She’s not smiling – she doesn’t smile much anymore, which is a shame because she had a nice smile – but she isn’t freaking out. “We got them.”

“What were they?” Stiles feels a knot of tension release. He won’t be breaking speed limits on the way to the vet clinic tonight.

“Hunters. Ones without rules.” Allison’s mouth tightened. She shook the bow. “Drop me by my car. That’s where the others are waiting.”

Stiles drove, his hands flexing on the steering wheel. So Allison had her archery skills and her whole Hunter training. Scott was wolfy. Derek was wolfy. Jackson was whatever Jackson was that week. Boyd, Erica and Isaac were wolfy. Lydia was magic. And he was Stiles. The chauffeur.

 

Derek had to chase him. Just a little. Stiles wasn’t quite sure when the slamming against the wall had turned from completely unthreatening behaviour thank you very much to the urge to rub backwards like some slutty cheerleader. But it had. That would be why he was currently lying under Derek on Derek’s ridiculous bed and letting him suck a mark into his hip. It trembled on the edge of pain for a moment before Derek licked over it, smirking.

“What are you smiling at?” Stiles demanded.

Derek looked up at him, smirk firmly in place. “Mine,” he said, without any shade of annoyance or anger. Just sheer smugness. “You’re mine.” Derek licked over the bruised skin again before continuing to tug at Stiles’ jeans and mouth his way closer to his cock. Multi-tasking. Derek had skills.

Stiles threw his hand over his face as Derek freed his cock from his pants only to capture it with his mouth. His thoughts were racing for all that Derek was doing his best to suck out his brains. Derek seemed to revel in taking Stiles as deep as he could, letting Stiles fill all his senses and using his wicked, wicked tongue to draw patterns on every single place that made Stiles wanton. He didn’t want Derek to see the frown he knew he must be wearing. Derek might claim that Stiles belonged to him. 

Stiles knew Derek didn’t belong to him. He had the pack. His pack. What did Stiles have?

 

Derek was curled around him later, eyes lazily tracing a pattern over Stiles’ chest. That made his heart hurt a little. Why would Derek want him? Was it because he was easy? Derek placed a soft kiss on Stiles’ arm. “You want to talk about it?”

“No. Talk about what? Nothing to talk about. Nope.” Stiles started to edge towards his clothes. “I’ve still got a curfew.”

“Stiles…” Derek’s voice was something of a growl and Stiles stared down at his dick valiantly trying to stiffen again. Traitor.

“What?” Derek’s arm was holding him down. Normally that was reassuring but this time it just felt constricting. He pushed at it.

Derek let out a sigh as he let go. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He didn’t sound happy about it but Stiles was a man on a mission. A mission to leave. The worst thing was he knew he’d be back.

 

Stiles was halfway through taking the cookies out of the oven when he heard the whispering. It wasn’t that they were talking next door that surprises him. It’s the volume. Normally when that many pack members get together all that silent staring ends with a screaming argument. That was why he was baking cookies. Or making cookies. Was it really baking when you bought the dough and just stuck it onto baking sheets. Baking sheets which he’d had to bring from his own house as Derek had a grand total of two saucepans.

Too much take out was bad for the soul. Cookies. Now cookies were just little bites of heaven, especially when they were hot from the oven and almost too burning to eat and that bite of pain just made the chocolate chips extra melting… Whispers. Whispers interrupting his baking.

Stiles knew that they’d be able to hear him even if they weren’t whispering but he snuck to the doorway anyway. It didn’t help. He stuck his head around the corner to see the gathered group – even Lydia – watching him. “The cookies will be ready soon.” Stiles ducked back and hid behind the counter.

He heard – even his dull human ears could do that sometimes – the whispering get fiercer and then there was some stamping and a door slammed – that was normal at least. Then Lydia was leaning across the counter and making him jump.

“I thought you were immune to werewolf bites. So how come you’re stealthy?” Stiles had to breathe hard to make his heartbeat slow down.

“Natural grace,” Lydia said, leaning forward to peer into the oven. “They ready? I want to take some with me.”

“With you? What?” Stiles knew he was flailing. “I thought we were hanging out.”

“Homework. And I don’t want to watch Scott and Allison making out all night, all right.” Lydia’s eyes darkened. In the past, she would have been in Jackson’s lap making a) Stiles feel inadequate and b) everyone else feel jealous. 

“Maybe they-“

“They will. So.” Lydia pasted a smile on her face and held out her hand. Stiles handed her the oven gloves and headed into the main room.

Lydia wasn’t the only one preparing to leave. The others were all shuffling towards the door, Jackson’s face like thunder, Erica pouting and Scott looking at him a little guiltily. He waved at least. Derek was nowhere to be seen and after Lydia slid out of the kitchen with a plate and left, Stiles was all alone.

He fluffed a cushion before he realised what he was doing. “Fuck.”

“Your swearing is improving.” Derek was leaning against the kitchen door, cookie in hand. He bit down, watching Stiles closely.

“Of course it is. I’ve got lots to swear about. Scott and you and the eternal crises in your life and no one wanting my cookies and-“ Stiles threw his arms in the air, very aware he looked just like Janelle when he was in the middle of throwing a queen fit in the middle of Erase. Stiles forced his hands down by his side, huffing a little, and glared at Derek again.

“I like your cookies.” Derek finished off the one in his hand. “They were itching for a free night.”

“And it was going to be one. Just us. Hanging out. Movies. Cookies. Almost like friends who are sometimes mortal enemies and our mildly creepy older brother type. I had explosions.” Stiles was yelling. He could feel the burn in his throat. He coughed.

“I’m happy they’ve gone.” Derek came forward, a familiar light in his eyes.

“Yeah. Because you think we’re going to have sex. Because all we do is have sex and nearly die.” Stiles’ dick was ready to scream at him. He didn’t exactly object to the orgasms. He just- “And then you all run off and leave me and I get into trouble and-“

Derek kissed his forehead. Stiles swore under his breath and let Derek pull him towards the sofa. “Let’s watch your explosions.”

 

The straw. The final straw. The one that makes the whole house of sloppily placed cards come down (he’s mixing his metaphors. He’s definitely not going to make it out of this one alive) is when Stiles is captured by vampires. They seem just as together as werewolves, which is to say, not at fucking all, as they sniff around him. Sometimes they want to drink his blood (for all that these are definitely American vampires he still hears that in a Bela Lugosi accent) and then they rear back, hissing and screeching and Stiles wonders how long it’s going to be before their needs overwhelm their disgust.

“Human-“ One of them moans out, licking a stripe up his bare arm. Which is terrifying, not arousing like when Derek does it. And the only person who should be doing it is Derek. And where is Derek? 

Another one – it’s hard to say male or female, old or young. They’re all kinda wrinkly and yuck – screams out “Wolf.” Then there’s a little vampire-on-vampire fight that ends up with a hole in the wall and no holes in Stiles, so yay! There’s no give in the ropes though. Being paralysed by kamina venom was really awful but at least it didn’t chafe. The red marks would take too long to fade to get away with hiding them from his dad too. Although his dad was now technically in on the whole ‘spooky beasts from your inner nightmares but they’re okay’ thing. He just didn’t want his dad to worry.

The roof – the roof? Why not doors? – fell in, dust and plaster choking him. Stiles closed his eyes and mouth against the various body fluids spraying across the room and waited for all the shrieking to calm down. He blinked his eyes open to see Derek all wolfed out leaning over him. 

“Hey. They bite you?” Derek was sniffing him. Closely. His tongue got in on the action occasionally. That was a little too much intimacy for him being tied up and helpless. 

“No. And I’d be better if these ropes weren’t, you know, roped around me.” Stiles tried to lift his hands but couldn’t.

Derek’s voice dipped low. “I like you tied up. It makes me feel like I have some control over you.” Stiles looked around the room, eyes wide. He could tell Scott had heard from the stiff way he was holding his back. If one of his hands had been free, Stiles would have punched out at Derek.

 

Three days later, his anger was still in place. There had been some crowing about how well their bait plan had worked in trapping the vampires in Allison’s car on the way home. Bait was a word that burned humiliatingly inside until the poison it produced made him writhe and hide his face against the window. That was all he was. And he hated it.

He’d hid in his room, locking the window for the first time since he and Derek had started crawling down the path they were on. Unfortunately being trapped in his room made his head spin. The little brown pills only did so much in helping him keep his urge to dance around straight. It didn’t help that school was out and he didn’t have that routine to keep himself organised. It didn’t help that he couldn’t sleep either.

Stiles ended up flicking through pages of book after book after his computer and his bed and his iPod all lost his interest. He was slowly getting more and more worked up and that word bait was still hurting everything he thought he knew.

The knock on the door startled him. The sight of Derek over his dad’s shoulder shocked him even more. “Hi-i.”

“Your friend called.” His dad’s dry voice promised interrogation later. “He’s not heard from you in three days.”

“Uh-huh.” Stiles nodded. The sight of Derek made him spin even more. Derek didn’t say anything. He just stared.

“Okay. No yelling. Keep the thumping down.” Colour rose high on his dad’s cheeks as he slipped away down the hall and that was just another thing to be added to his slate of misery.

Stiles decided to retreat. He buried himself in the pile of blankets on his bed. Derek leaned against the closed door and watched.

“You’re not just bait.” Derek was looking out the window now, face frozen in arrogant Alpha mode. “Not to me.”

Stiles nodded. His hands itched. He wanted to reach out to Derek and pull him close and let him be forgiven. But he kept his hands buried deep in the covers. He also bit his lips to prevent himself saying anything. Derek kept up the silence too but Stiles was more used to that.

“I’m sorry.” The words came from somewhere inside Derek that Stiles had never expected to see. Somewhere that Stiles had never expected to see. He could crow. He could shout it from the rooftops. Instead Stiles unfurled the blankets and made space for Derek on the bed. He curled up next to him and felt himself relax as the warmth from Derek’s body seeped into his skin. Sleep came quickly then but not before he managed to speak.

 

Stiles was happy enough that there was no one in Derek’s apartment when he let himself in. He was still a little on edge with the others even though they’d presented him with apologies in one form or another. He still needed some breathing room. Space.

Derek’s bed was empty too but the wrinkled sheets still held the vestiges of warmth. Stiles crawled into them, using his inadequate human nose to sniff out Derek’s lingering scent. It was something he enjoyed doing now.

Derek woke him out of a doze by lying back on the bed beside him.

“Hey. Got something for you.” His voice was attempting casual and light but Stiles could see his tension in taut muscles. 

“I like presents.” 

“You don’t- It’s not something you have to take.” Derek didn’t meet Stiles’ eyes as he pulled out a leather case. “It’s a… symbol as much as anything.”

Stiles took it and opened the box. A thin leather collar – nothing like a dog’s. It was supple and felt like silk under his fingertips. “What do you think it symbolises?”

“Us. Being together.” Derek had his hands clasped over his stomach and he was watching the ceiling but Stiles had no doubt as to what Derek was trying to say.

“I guess a ring would be a little too flashy.” Stiles pulled it out and weighed it in his hands. This was a pretty big decision. On the other hand, he could always take it off. Later.

“A ring isn’t… traditional. Not in my family.” Derek was watching out of the side of his eyes as Stiles slid the narrow strap around his neck. “Here. Let me help.”

Stiles tipped his head back as Derek fastened the loops, his breath already coming faster from the brush of Derek’s fingers. The band didn’t weigh much at all and yet it seemed like a burden had been lifted from him, not placed around his neck. Derek tried to move away and Stiles reached out his hand to draw him closer. Their lips met and all the unsettled feelings in Stiles’ stomach settled.

Words still spilled out of him when they pulled apart. “I like it when you give me presents. You should give me presents more. Cake is a good present. I like cinnamon rolls.”

Derek always looked younger when he smiled. And equally his face looked strange - he wasn't used to smiling. Stiles brushed his hand across Derek's stubble and grinned back at him. He was sure he looked besotted. Derek shook himself - a little like a dog but Stiles was not going to make that comparison. No, sir - and lifted another collar from beside the bed. "You help me now."

Stiles looked at him, eyes wide. "You wear one too?"

Weird uncertainty flicked across Derek's face. "If you want me to." His eyes were already beginning to shutter the raw emotion behind them.

Stiles swung himself up until he was straddling Derek's lap. He grabbed the collar and looped it around Derek's neck, using it to pull Derek close. "Always." The word 'forever' was there too, tip of his tongue, but Stiles managed to swallow it down as he fastened the collar and ran his fingertips around the already warming leather.

Derek kissed him again, hands starting to work at shirts and pants already. Stiles could feel himself and Derek quieting, that equilibrium they sought returning. He stretched out, naked, and smiled when Derek covered him, naked skin the best distraction of all.

 

His dad was the only one who didn’t comment on the collar. He stared at it rather hard, eyes narrowed over the dinner table. “Guess you need to update your wardrobe after all,” was all he said. Scott and Allison seemed a little jealous of it and Lydia poked it, once, hard, before grudgingly admitting it looked good on him. The others pretty much thought they could use it to taunt until Stiles put his years of experience at being superior to bullies into action and they gave up. Danny looked him up and down and sighed. “Nice one, Stiles. If you ever wanted to share…”

Stiles shook his head. A little too quickly which made him feel dizzy. Derek was his and he was Derek’s. It didn’t need words now.


End file.
